A Son's Sacrifice
by Jaya Avendel
Summary: One fateful night the King and Queen of Mirkwood go for a stroll. It is the night the Queen is meant to die. A black arrow whistles toward its target. Would Thranduil trade the life of his wife for instead the life of his only son? Written for my dear friend, Erelil Morningstar's birthday.


**Happy birthday, mellon nin! A birthday surprise for you. I hope it adds a smile to your day!**

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Thranduil and Caralyei passed under the green boughs of Mirkwood. Layers of leaves and high branches filtered out the hot summer heat. Beneath the trees, it was cool; above the last bough, the air burned hot and sticky.

Dusk was setting, causing the air to cool further. The King and Queen of Mirkwood strolled along the moss-covered path, the springy, plush green springing back up in their wake. The light hem of Caralyei's dress and Thranduil's mantle dragged behind them.

"Ah, life," Caralyei sighed, swinging her arms at her side. "Without the kingdom breathing down our necks. How sweet the air."

Thranduil knew a day's attendance at various meetings have the causal dusk a precious meaning; it took the weight out of the air. He held his wife's hand, her skin cool against his.

"I almost feel guilt about leaving Legolas home," Thranduil said, turning his eyes up in search of the moon.

Caralyei pressed his hand. "You are a good father to him, my love, and he will understand if we are not there to tuck him in this once. He is in Galion's good care."

Their feet were carrying them in the direction of Birth's Grove, named so by the King and Queen fifty years previous. Caralyei stood at the entrance to the small grove and smiled at her husband. "Do you remember this place with as much fondness as I?"

"This is the place of out joining," Thranduil answered. He chucked her under the chin. "And Legolas's place of birth."

"And hopefully soon to be the place where another new life is made," Caralyei said softly as Thranduil took her in his arms.

Thranduil kissed her on the lips, closing his eyes in bliss, and broke away with a start as a stick cracked in the wood behind him. He glanced behind him. Trees grew thick around them, a gap between two oaks the only entrance. The moss floor, with a large rock at center, had harbored many a family picnic.

For a moment Thranduil thought Legolas had followed them. Then the foul smell of orc filth met his nostrils, blown to him by a cool wind. Caralyei smelt it and tensed with him. She and Thranduil inched back toward the glade's exit, holding hands.

A hoarse shout echoed behind them as the royal couple broke into a run. Twigs snapped as half a dozen orcs sprang from the trees.

"The scouts are not but five minutes ahead," Thranduil said, fighting to keep his voice calm. An arrow of black wood sailed past his neck and Caralyei gasped, "Five minutes may be too long to wait!"

Thranduil shouted for the scouts as he kept running. A glance over his shoulder showed the orcs gaining ground. His face darkened as he saw the lumped, misshapen face of Bolg, his thin and sharp teeth protruding from his mouth.

How dare Angmar invade his wood?

Caralyei stumbled but kept her balance and kept running. The cries of the patrol nearing sounded ahead and Thranduil let out a relieved sigh. Behind the two, Bolg drew to a halt as if sensing his prey would soon escape and loaded a last missile to his bow. He squinted down the length of the black shaft, lining it up with Caralyei's back, and let the arrow fly.

Thranduil's eyes riveted on the deadly shaft, opening wife in panic and he threw himself to protect his wife's body, knowing it was too late. Caralyei spun around and tried to move but the arrow seemed to be stuck on a path to her heart.

"Nana!" a young voice cried.

Thranduil caught a flash of yellow hair and heard a small whimper as he fell to the ground, his heart rising to choke him. Bolg turned and faded into the wood as Thranduil crawled to Legolas's side, forcing himself not to touch the arrow buried deep in his small son's precious body.

Caralyei let out a mother's sob of anguish and dropped beside Legolas. The elfling turned to stare at them both with wide eyes, unfamiliar with the pain. Darkness was beginning to creep across him.

"L-love you," Legolas gasped out before his head rolled against Thranduil's knee and the color drained from his face.

"Legolas!" his parents cried. "No! No! Not our little leaf! Come back."

Caralyei tore off her skirt and packed it around the arrow. Together she and Thranduil lifted Legolas's limp form and stumbled in a daze to the palace.

The healers took the body in silence, bursting into action. Thranduil and Caralyei sank down on a bench outside the operating room, their weak legs unable to support them further.

"How can this have happened?" Caralyei moaned, leaning against her husband's shoulder as much as he leaned on hers. "He cannot die. Not now. Not so soon! This cannot be happening!"

Thranduil held her hands and let his own tears roll down his cheeks, the sight of Legolas lying twisted in the dirt glued before his eyes.

The door to the operating room opened an hour later and the healers filed out. The head elf approached the King and Queen and gave a quick bow.

"My lord and lady, we have removed the arrow but Legolas is deep in unconsciousness. We cannot say if he will live yet or not."

Caralyei's jaw trembled. Her fingers tightened on Thranduil's.

"I beg of you to rest," the healer urged. "I know this is a terrible shock but you will need your rest to be with Legolas when he wakes."

Alone in bed neither King nor Queen could sleep. Caralyei wept softly into Thranduil's chest as he held her hand and rubbed her back, his heart as heavy as hers. He kept remembering if not for Legolas, his wife would be dead.

Thranduil thought of Bolg and hatred swept across him. The filth had brought this grief to his home and he was still out there.

"Where do you go?" Caralyei asked in surprise as Thranduil flung off the blankets and made for the door.

"To repay Bolg for this torment," Thranduil answered and closed the door behind him.

Legolas cracked his eyes open. He coughed and tried to move but pain stopped him.

"Ada?" he croaked. "Nana?"

His desperate voice echoed off the empty walls around him. Legolas struggled to sit up, his heart cracking. His parents had not stayed with him. He needed them.

The bandages around his waist shifted as Legolas tried not to think of them. He crawled out of bed and tried to stand but spreading pain forced him to his knees. He crawled to the door, rising to open it and stagger out into the hall.

The halls were empty but even if elves had passed him, Legolas would not have noticed them. His pain threatened to drag him down and his mind was empty save his determination to reach his parents.

Legolas fumbled with the doorknob to his parents' bedchamber and crawled into the room, as it swung open. He heard someone shift in the bed as he went inch by agonizing inch toward it and his mother's voice spoke.

"Nana," he gasped. "Nana."

Caralyei let out a choked cry of surprise turned to horror and came to his side as Legolas struggled onto the bed. She pulled him close into a tight embrace and rested her pale face on his soft head. Legolas settled into her embrace but someone he still needed was not there.

"Ada?" he said, his hand groping for his father.

Caralyei bit her lip, her heart swelling in dismay. "He—he is not here, my sweet once. He has gone to slay the orc who shot you."

Legolas did not care about the orc who shot him. "Ada," he moaned, the plea turning to a sob.

The door to the bedroom swung open and Thranduil stood there, holding a candle. He was not dressed for orc hunting, being still in his nightrobe. His words froze on his lips at the sight of Legolas and he hurried to the bed, putting down his candle.

Legolas turned as Thranduil lay down beside him and sandwiched himself between both parents. Ada and nana were warm and soft and their love dulled his pain. Their hands in his hair were soft.

"You came back," Caralyei said. "Why?"

"I never went," Thranduil replied. "I realized I have a son who needs me far more then Bolg needs to die."

As Caralyei smiled, the tears in her eyes sparkling, Legolas tugged on their shirts.

"Sing to me, please," he murmured.

In the dying, golden candlelight, the King and Queen of Mirkwood joined their voices over their healing son, the soft, sweet sound rocking Legolas to sleep.


End file.
